


Don't Let Go

by inverted_typo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1814, Historic, History, M/M, treaty of kiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverted_typo/pseuds/inverted_typo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Norway woke up in a cold bed, consumed in a mess of violent sobs, plagued by sickening regret for not looking back at his beautiful, lovely Denmark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is me pouring my heart out about the Treaty of Kiel (1814) in Hetalia fashion. AFter the Kalmur Union (in which Sweden, Denmark and Norway were all under Danish rule from 1397-1523, Denmark-Norway were still governed under Danish rule.  
> Nearly three hundred years later, Denmark gave up Norway to the king of Sweden in fear of Jutland being occupied. The Danes were being faced with being invaded by the German, Russian and Swedes under a Swedish prince. 
> 
> So here's the APH exchange.
> 
> Yay history! 
> 
> It's nearly 1:30 so don't expect this to be a masterpiece u_u  
> And I like emotionally struggling Norway hahaha.... I'm so terrible. 
> 
> **Translations are at the bottom

He had allowed Denmark to hold his hand on their way to rendezvous point. Despite the comforting squeezes the larger hand gave periodically, Norway couldn’t help but keep his mind focused on the fact that soon, he’d have to let go of Denmark’s hand for the last time. It almost made him believe it would have been better to have not held hands at all.

It was an eerily silent walk. Norway glanced upwards every now and then, violet eyes scanning the sharp features of Denmark’s face. He expected two, crystal-blue eyes to gaze back down at him, a crooked and happy smile to match. But he was never greeted with such a sight. The lack of Denmark’s one-sided conversation made Norway feel anxious and uneasy. The last words spoken were nearly two hours ago when Denmark offered his hand to him back at the castle right before leaving.

“Are you ready, Norge?” Denmark had asked.

The smaller man had only nodded, slowly entwining his fingers with Denmark’s. They had begun to walk.

Snow crunched as it compressed beneath the pair’s feet, leaving an unspoken trail of dismay. It wasn’t too much longer that a tall, cloaked man on a horse stood out against the whiteness. Another horse, no man saddled, stood next to him.

Norway swallowed. He suddenly felt as though hands were clawing at him from underneath the earth, screaming at him to stop walking. Each footstep forward was more and more of an effort. He clung to Denmark who lead him to this fate.

Shorter the distance grew between them and the man with two horses. Too soon they stood merely feet away.

It took all of Norway’s might to keep from collapsing at the feet of his new boss.

“Sverige,” Denmark greeted coldly.

“Hn.”

Norway’s gaze was steady, his eyes glazed as he looked at Sweden. He hadn’t changed. He was still so stoic and vague. A rush of memories from centuries ago flooded Norway’s mind. They were quick like lightening, flashing and going dark in an instant before another memory replaced it. These memories were something of smiles and laughter, warm nights by the hearth, then blood and deafening screams. It made Norway dizzy.

Without warning, he felt Denmark give his hand a bruising squeeze, making Norway wince. He stared up at Denmark. He couldn’t bear to look at Denmark’s hand ease away.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Denmark murmured.

The latter couldn’t react. He was frigid.

“Y…You’ll write me and Ice, right?”

Norway nodded numbly.

“Good… Ice will like that, and so will I.”

Denmark leaned down and pressed a loving kiss into Norway’s hair. Norway slowly shook his head as Denmark backed away. His eyes widened with desperation before he found himself trying to follow the old Viking, his feet moving to catch up. But something stopped him.

“N’r,” Sweden’s gruff voice mumbled.

Norway shot a gaze back at his arm.  Sweden’s gloved hand was firmly grasping it. Lavender eyes stared up at the taller man. He swallowed thickly.

“I…I’m sorry,” Norway whispered.

He relaxed, shakily turning around. Sweden gently ushered him to the horse, handing him the reins. Norway mounted easily, taking hold of the reins Sweden had offered. He could feel the Dane’s stare focused on the back of his head as he began to ride off. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to see Denmark one last time. He wanted to be lost in that strong gaze one more time. Yet the overwhelming fear of witnessing Denmark’s expression as he let Norway go was just too much.

For years, Norway woke up in a cold bed, consumed in a mess of violent sobs, plagued by sickening regret for not looking back at his beautiful, lovely Denmark.

 

* * *

 

 

Norway jerked upwards, cold sweat beading his skin. That damn dream…! He panted, eyes frantically darting around the room. Many of the objects seemed to be completely unfamiliar and foreign. It startled Norway, a surge of panic shocking his system.

Where were the large curtains? Why was the ceiling so low? Where were the heavy stone bricks that made up the walls? What and how is that little tiny box on the night stand glowing? As Norway’s heart slowed, and as his mind gathered itself, he began to re-familiarize himself with when and where he was.

He trembled, a small noise bursting out of his mouth. His head turned to his side. He expected the bed to be empty…just as it had been all those years. Instead of empty space, however, a man with wild hair slept. His features were relaxed, eyebrows upturned in peaceful slumber. His mouth hung slightly ajar as he breathed out light snores.

Denmark…

Norway exasperated a jittered sigh. After another moment of gathering his thoughts and emotions, he slowly lowered himself back under the covers. The Norwegian shifted closer to the Dane, his arms coiling around his warm figure. The larger man squirmed. He turned a bit, arm draping over his lover.

Norway gazed at him, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Jeg elsker deg, Danmark…” he whispered against his lips, “please don’t let go of me ever again…”

He nuzzled him before settling down in Denmark’s protective, cradling arms. It wasn’t until Norway was enveloped in sleep did Denmark hold him closer. He surrounded his little Norway, mumbling incoherently. His eyes opened partially to admire that gorgeous face.

“Don’t worry, Norge… I promise to never let go of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Norge = Norway
> 
> Sverige = Sweden  
> (Noge and Sverige mean the same thing in all three languages! :D Danish, Swedish and Norwegian. They're very similar languages you'd be surprised)
> 
> Jeg elsker deg, Danmark = I love you, Denmark


End file.
